


Go to hell (for the company)

by AquaMarinara



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty doesn't want to go, But they're married so is that really a surprise, F/F, F/M, M/M, My take on the gang going camping, Sharing a bed/tent, They're adults with kids, Total AU, but she does, sorry - Freeform, these tags are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 17:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaMarinara/pseuds/AquaMarinara
Summary: "She should have known.She should have fucking known.Because of course Josie was on tour. Of course Cheryl and Toni had dropped Heather off with Kevin and Fangs before jetting off to their couple’s retreat in Santorini. Of course Veronica had come down with strep throat, as she had every single fucking year on the weekend of the group’s annual camping trip."OrBetty's friends bail out on the group's annual camping trip at the last minute, and leave her to deal with their husbands and kids for two days. At least she has her own husband as backup.





	Go to hell (for the company)

**Author's Note:**

> Long time, no see! Sorry about that. I was physically and mentally ill for quite some time, and just had to step away from the fandom. But I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever.
> 
> I'm not on tumblr (maybe I should make an account) but I noticed a lot of camping fics were being posted as part of something on there (Camp Bughead, I think?), so here's my take on that.
> 
> It's an AU where all of the gang went to high school together, and nothing bad ever really happened in Riverdale.
> 
> Not beta'd, so please excuse any mistakes. Enjoy!
> 
> (warning: as you've probably surmised from the summary, there's mild swearing)

She should have known.

 

She should have _fucking_ known.

 

Because of course Josie was on tour. Of course Cheryl and Toni had dropped Heather off with Kevin and Fangs before jetting off to their couple’s retreat in Santorini. Of course Veronica had come down with strep throat, as she had every single _fucking_ year on the weekend of the group’s annual camping trip.

 

But she hadn’t known. Because she was naive Betty Cooper, who—even at the age of thirty-two—still managed to place her hopes in the most unreliable of people.

 

She expects, though, that Jughead had known, because as she slams the passenger-side door of their Honda shut, looks over at their assembled group of friends lugging tents and sleeping bags towards the camp site, and groans at the distinct lack of estrogen in the air, he shoots her an apologetic look.

 

The only other mother who had somehow not found an excuse to get out of the trip was Ethel, but she and Betty had never been too close, and the blonde somehow already _knows_ that they aren’t going to become best friends overnight.

 

Ethel and Dilton are arguing over something—Betty guesses his wish to teach their six year old daughter, Billie, how to shoot the BB guns strapped over his back—while said daughter trails behind them, kicking the pebbles on the path out of her way with her combat boots.

 

Reggie follows close behind, dragging two coolers full of what Betty already knows to be ninety-five percent cheap beer and five percent ice. His and Josie’s two sons help their father with the rest of the family’s bags. Betty recalls that Trey is now ten (and the oldest of all the kids) and has just started seriously pursuing football as an extracurricular, just as his father had at that age. Jace, a few years younger, takes much more after his mother, and a small guitar swings over his left shoulder.

 

Archie and Veronica’s twins kick a soccer ball between them as they make their own way to the campsite, arms unhindered by any baggage. They’ve left their father to carry all the duffel bags from the back of the rusty pickup truck, and Betty watches Archie stumble around as he tries to balance the stacks of luggage in his arms. She’s reminded of a similar image of Archie from many, many years ago at the Lodge Cabin couples’ retreat, when Veronica had let him do all the heavy lifting. The twins have certainly learned from their mother’s ways. And Archie has never learned to say no.

 

Kevin pulls a sleeping Max out of his carseat in the back of the Toyota Prius parked next to Betty in the camp’s parking lot. With his husband occupied by their sleeping child, Fangs is forced to empty out the trunk by himself. Heather, watching him struggle, hops out of the car and latches her tiny fingers (with nails painted the same fiery red shade as her mother’s hair) onto the handle of two suitcases—each one double her weight.

 

“Heather, let go of the suitcases, hon. I can do it,” Fangs tells her with some worry in his voice. The luggages look like they’ll fall on top of her at any moment.

 

The young girl just scoffs and supplies him with an eye roll identical to the ones Toni often delivers. “You’ve got more than enough, Uncle Fangs. And don’t underestimate me. Don’t tell me I have to start reciting Shakespeare again.”

 

He gives her a toothy smile and replies softly, “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

 

“Exactly, Uncle Fangs, now let’s go. Uncle Kev probably needs help with Max.” She turns around, not waiting for a response, and heads into the woods.

 

Betty watches her goddaughter strut down the path with a sense of pride swelling in her heart, causing her to nearly forget her current predicament. That is, until her own daughter, her beautiful Juliet—all bouncy brown curls and bright green eyes—steps out of the car behind her, neck bent down to look at her phone.

 

She and Jughead had given it to her as a gift at the beginning of second grade, when she was old enough to make the short walk home alone from elementary school. Betty recognizes the importance of her daughter having some independence, of course, but she also wants to make sure that she’s safe. And if that means that her little Juliet has a phone (and access to the scary world wide web) a little earlier than she probably should, well—Betty would just have to learn to live with that.

 

Sometimes, she regrets getting her that phone. Like when she catches her watching weird videos of people sticking rhinestones all over their face with lash glue late at night on Youtube. Or when she constantly requests Betty’s App Store password in order to get the newest Papa’s Pizzeria game. Or when she can’t enjoy the beauty of her wild surroundings because she’s so engrossed in whatever is on that dang—

 

“Siri, do I _have_ to go on this stupid camping trip?” Her daughter whines to the phone, and Betty cracks a smile. Ok, maybe it isn’t all that bad.

 

But Betty confiscates the phone all the same, telling a pouting Juliet to go have fun with her cousin; the young girl trudges towards the lake, where everyone else is starting to set up camp.

 

Betty then turns towards her husband, ready to admonish him for not letting her skip out on this trip like she’d wanted to (and to complain that this was going to be an even worse shit show than she’d already told him it would be), but sees that he’s busy talking with Sweet Pea, who’d rode up for the annual trip by himself—having just broken up with his most-recent girlfriend. They’re leaning against Pea’s bike, deep in conversation, and all Betty can think about now is how good her husband looks just standing there. 

 

Maybe she should get him one, she contemplates absently as she begins her own journey down the dirt trail that leads away from the parking lot and to the lakeside campsite, refrigerator bag on one shoulder and sleeping bag on the other.

 

Or, at the very least, a leather jacket to match Pea’s.

 

~~~

 

The boys have already set up their tents around the fire pit—with the open side of the semi-circle facing the lake—and there’s only one spot left open for the Jones tent, but she’ll let Jughead deal with that later.

 

Archie and Reggie have the boys marching around to old military cadences—where they’d learned them, she’ll never know—but she’s heard enough “Sound Off!”s by the time she sets up her foldable chair next to the fire and deposits her bags, so she shoots Archie a warning glance.

 

He catches her look and turns to the young boys behind him. “Alright troops!” he shouts with enthusiasm. More enthusiasm than Betty could muster even if she was faking it. “Time to go cut down some logs for the fire and some stumps for stools. Everybody ready?”

 

“Yes, sir!” they chorus as Reggie hands each one of them a small axe. They hold it safely at their sides, facing away from them just as they’d been taught, but a shiver of anxiety runs up Betty’s spine. It’s nothing new, so she just shakes it off. Nothing has ever happened before, and she just has to hope that the boys are going to be awfully careful once again.

 

Kevin and Fangs leave their sleeping son under Heather’s watch in their tent in order to follow after the other guys. The more people there are to keep an eye out for trouble, the better.

 

Jughead and Sweet Pea catch the tail end of the wood-cutting brigade and follow it down another trail deeper into the woods, so the only father left behind at the campsite is Dilton. He and Billie are kneeling in the grass, setting up their fishing poles, while Ethel rummages around in her own refrigerator bag.

 

Betty sits in her chair, legs stretched out in front of her, her husband’s latest work-in-progress open in her lap, and a red pen in her right hand; she doesn’t notice when father and daughter stand up quickly from their spots and each grab a BB gun from the nearby picnic table.

 

Neither does Ethel, until she’s turning around, holding a few vegetables above her head, and shouting in triumph, “I knew I’d packed them! We can’t just eat some god-awful hotdogs and other processed meats for two days straight. That’ll ruin our insides, Dil—”

 

She snaps her head to do a quick sweep of the campsite when she notices that neither Dilton nor Billie are where she expects them to be, and she catches sight of her daughter running to hide behind a tree on yet another path leading into the forest. “Dilton!” she screeches so loud that Betty jumps up, book falling out of her lap.

 

“Dilton, I swear if she even sets a finger on those things!” Ethel doesn’t finish the threat, but begins to run after them, and Betty chuckles. _Shouldn’t have married a paranoid survival nut, then, dear Ethel._

 

However, her small smile disappears as soon as she realizes she’s the only adult left at the main campsite. She now has to watch the remaining children, and the gear, _and_ cook the dinner Ethel had started (or, wanted to start) all on her own. 

 

When Betty pulls back the light flap at the entrance to the Fogarty-Keller tent, shooting Heather a questioning look, the girl responds with a thumbs up and slight tilt of the head, directed towards her sleeping younger cousin. Betty smiles and sets off towards the lake, in order to wash the vegetables in a running stream that leads into the bigger body of water.

 

“Mama, mama, watch me!” Juliet shouts at her as she pushes herself higher on the rope swing hanging off a tree branch near the water.

 

“Wow, you’re really getting high up there,” she comments brightly. 

 

“I know. It’s like I’m flying!” she shouts back as she lets the swing go, diving into the lake—fully-clothed. _God, what a crazy little girl,_ Betty thinks as she watches from the shore.

 

Juliet’s head pops out from the crystal blue water, wicked smile on her face, and Betty can’t help but laugh.

 

My _crazy little girl._

 

~~~

 

Betty’s chopping up her freshly-washed vegetables when the boys return, all now carrying huge stumps of wood above their heads.

 

Sweet Pea leads the pack, instructing them to set the stools around the fire in a circle. He’d been the one to gift them all a pocket-size switch-blade for Christmas last year (which, quite frankly, had made her question his sanity once again), so it was appropriate that he was the one to teach them all how to carve their initials into the chunks of wood.

 

Jughead is the last to come up the path to the campsite, looking more exhausted than anyone else, despite the fact that he hadn’t cut a single piece of wood and wasn’t carrying any logs. He’d left all of that to his friends.

 

She shoots him a small smirk when he locks eyes with her. A smirk that says, _I told you this was going to be hell_ , and he rolls his eyes back at her. She turns back to chopping her peppers when some movement catches her eye. 

 

Henry, one of Archie’s boys and the only one with a stool big enough to share, had carved a little J.J. next to his H.A., and waved Juliet over to sit next to him. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, they’d all prove her wrong.

 

~~~

 

They would not prove her wrong.

 

Reggie, mastermind of all chaos, had somehow decided to pull out the beers and marshmallows at the same time. And now all of the adults (except for Betty and her husband) were drunkenly stumbling around the cooler like a group of frat boys while their children ran around fueled by their sugar rushes.

 

All of the younger boys, after having shoved countless burnt marshmallows into their mouths, had begun to use the pointy roasting sticks as swords and were chasing each other shouting “No mercy!”

 

It looked like a scene out of _Lord of the Flies._

 

The girls, thankfully, were quietly busying themselves braiding each other’s hair. And while that was great and all, it also left Max without a babysitter; as he began to wail (his marshmallow had disastrously dropped into the flames), Betty couldn’t help but bemoan her situation.

 

She’d known this was going to be absolute hell. But without anyone other than her husband to help her wrangle together all these kids, well—all she wants to do is slap some sense into her friends. Both the drunken ones now engaged in silly arm wrestling competitions over by the picnic tables and the ones who had left her to fend for herself without any warning.

 

(Although, they _had_ done the same thing last year. And the year before that. And the year before that one. So maybe they had given her some warning. She’d just ignored it for far too long.

 

They did this every year, but she had finally learned her lesson. Like hell she was coming back here again next year.)

 

Suddenly, the wailing in her ears stops, and Betty looks over to see Jughead cradling Max in his arms, feeding him a perfectly-roasted marshmallow of his own. It’s unfair of her to let him take care of this mess all by himself; she groans as she pushes herself up from her chair and catches the first kid to run by her by the shoulders.

 

She spins Trey around to look at her, one hand still heavy on his shoulder, the other now extended with her palm facing the darkening sky. 

 

“Aw, come on, Mrs. Jones. We’re just having some fun,” he whines as he turns his head to watch his younger brother still wildly chasing Henry around.

 

“It’s just Betty, Trey. Now, hand it over. You’re going to get hurt playing with those things.” She’s stern with her tone, and her face hardens. She’s had to deal with enough over the years to know how to handle stubborn people. And kids.

 

He looks torn, but eventually hands over the pointy stick with a sigh. One by one, Betty gathers up all the boys, taking the dangerous objects from them, before pointing them in Jughead’s direction. He’s left Max to watch Heather intricately braid Juliet’s long hair, and now sits around the dwindling campfire, flashlight in hand. He flickers it on and off, highlighting his face like a strobe light would.

 

“Who wants to hear a ghost story?” he asks lowly, with a slight grin that sends shivers up everyone’s spines. And yet, they all drift over to sit next to him, intrigued.

 

Her husband always was a good storyteller.

 

~~~

 

Betty wakes up to the sound of someone rustling around in her tent. With bleary eyes and a blinding headache (one that almost makes her think that _she’s_ the one who drank last night), she sits up in her sleeping bag.

 

“Sorry, Mama,” Juliet tells her as she stills her movements, a guilty look on her face. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just looking for my bathing suit,” she gestures to where Juliet’s clothes have all been dumped out of her duffle bag and scattered around the corner of the tent. “We’re going swimming!”

 

“Already?” Betty asks tiredly. “It’s so early, Julie Bee.”

 

“It’s already sunny out, Mama. That’s late enough.”

 

God, how Betty envies her daughter. If only she could pass over some of that never-ending sunshine-and-rainbows energy that Betty now seems to have lost. Betty imagines if she found a way to bottle it up and sell it, she’d become rich faster than Cheryl can say “hobo”.

 

Betty watches her daughter slip out of the tent, fingers clutching a yellow bikini, before she lets her head fall back onto her pillow. She feels Jughead’s arms tighten around her, and he groans into her hair. “We should get out there. I’m sure the boys are already partaking in some form of anarchy, and everyone else is too hungover to care.”

 

And as much as she doesn’t want to slip out of the warmth and comfort of the sleeping bag, of his arms, she recognizes that he’s probably right, so she throws on a robe over her tank top and shorts, and drags him out of the tent behind her. 

 

The kids are busy jumping into the lake off the rope swing, as Juliet had done the day before.

 

In fact, her daughter’s the only one not participating in the current diving competition.

 

(Other than Heather, who’s busy teaching Max how to swim by the shore.)

 

Juliet is busy arguing with Sweet Pea, who’s stirring eggs around in a frying pan on the fire. There’s a pickle jar next to him, but its only contents are the juice, and Betty scrunches her nose. She still can’t believe that actually works (Sweet Pea has sworn since high school that pickle juice is the best hangover cure, and she’s never exactly been inclined to fight him on that).

 

“But, Uncle Pea! We need judges. There’s no competition without a judge. And everyone else,” Juliet points to those in the water behind her, “is too biased. You’re the only one who can do it.” She folds her hands together and bats her lashes, and Betty has to stifle a laugh.

 

Of course they’d sent Juliet to sweet-talk Sweet Pea. He’d always had a soft spot for the little girl.

 

After taking a quick swig from the jar next to him, he turns to her, and (as expected) folds. “Just give me a minute to eat and change, Bee. I’ll be right there.” He sounds exhausted, and reluctant, but the warmth in his eyes tells Betty just how much he loves her little girl.

 

As soon as Sweet Pea disappears into his tent (presumably to change into some swim trunks), Juliet’s attention zeros in on Betty, the only other adult who’s awake. _God dammit,_ she thinks as her daughter approaches, _of course Jug went back to asleep._

 

“Oh, Mama. You have to come be our judge!” the little girl in front of her pleads.

 

Betty crosses her arms across her chest. “What about Sweet Pea?”

 

“Well, he’s biased. You _have_ to know he’d just let me win, no matter what.”

 

Betty has to give her that.

 

So she has to get in the freezing-cold lake. And tread water as she rates the children’s dives into the water with Sweet Pea. She finds it strange that Henry and his twin, Carl, disappear half-way through the third round of dives, but decides to ignore them. Archie can take care of his own kids.

 

~~~

 

A few rounds later (after Billie belly-flops into the still water), Betty finds out exactly where Archie’s children disappeared to.

 

A high-pitched scream radiates out from Kevin and Fangs’ tent, and everyone turns their heads to see Kevin running out, a small lizard crawling across his face. He looks exactly like Meredith Blake, and if Betty’s husband were here, in the water, and not snoring away in their tent, he might’ve even made her laugh with a joke about twins purposely placing a lizard on a drama queen’s face during a camping trip.

 

She runs out of the water to go help her friend, who looks absolutely terrified. “Just pick it up and off your forehead, Kev,” she tells him as she approaches.

 

He doesn’t open his mouth (he’s obviously seen _The Parent Trap_ as well) and just shakes his head at her, eyes wide.

 

“Oh, come on. You’re being more dramatic than Cheryl.” That’s probably why Henry and Carl had chosen him as their victim. She plucks the lizard off his head and holds it in her palm before setting it on the ground gently.

 

She rounds on the two boys, who are not-so-subtly hiding behind their tent, and scolds them about being such pranksters. 

 

Kevin runs into the lake in an attempt to rid his body of the “lizard-germs”, as he calls them. Betty doesn’t think she’s ever met such a childish man before. He even somehow manages to beat out Jughead.

 

~~~

 

The group spends the whole day in the water, enjoying the lazy sun and subtle breeze.

 

The kids tire out by the time the moon is high in the sky, and Archie pushes his friends towards the lake once they’ve all ensured that their children are sound asleep.

 

It’s a tradition they’ve had every year since the gang first starting camping together during high school summers. The last night always warranted a dip in the water, no matter how frigid it became in the dead of night.

 

The only time Betty had skipped out was when she was heavily pregnant with Juliet and could barely move.

 

So now, even though she absolutely despises the idea of jumping into a freezing-cold lake she’s already spent the entire day in, Betty grabs onto Jughead’s hand as they head towards the water. Reggie and Archie race each other in, and she can’t help but laugh. She doesn’t think they’ll ever really grow up. But she loves them for it.

 

As the group becomes engrossed in a conversation about this year’s football season, she ducks underwater and slips away towards a sliver of beach she’d discovered years ago. It’s surrounded by pointy branches and pine trees, so the only point of entry is through the lake.

 

Betty sets herself out on the sand, brushing away a few pine needles that litter the ground, and waits. She knows that within minutes, Jughead’s raven locks will peek out of the water as he emerges, and they’ll be able to watch the stars together. She can already see the events of tonight playing out in her head. He’ll probably teach her about a few more constellations. Pull her into his lap. Whisper sweet nothings into her ear once they’re both too tried to actually, properly think.

 

They did do this every year, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Stay tuned because I have a lot planned. A new multi-chapter should be out either tomorrow or the day after that, and I'm super excited to hear what you think of it.
> 
> And some more one-shots are on the way. ;)
> 
> Love you all, xo
> 
>  
> 
> PS: The title is from a quote by Mark Twain: Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.  
> PPS: The military cadence is called The Duckworth Chant (Sound Off!), if anyone was interested.


End file.
